Sylvanas, Unbound
by Buglet
Summary: Sylvanas takes steps to alleviate the tedium of undeath. Rated M for language. AU.


**Disclaimer: Warcraft is not mine. If it were, it would be much more villain-friendly. **

**AN: This is a lore-free zone.**

Sylvanas, Unbound

_ I am __**so**__ bored_…the Banshee Queen thought. _Time to stab somebody in the back…_

Sylvanas smiled and asked herself the burning question:_W__ho__se life—__or un-life—__can I __totally __fuck __with__...?_

She considered her options. Tirion? She sighed, doubtful. To be so imbued with the Light, Highlord Fordring was, in many ways, quite the dimly-burning brazier. While his perplexity over her guile continued to be reliably entertaining, his unrelenting forgiveness of _any_ transgression was becoming somewhat tiresome.

The silly human seemed incapable of understanding that Evil was its own reward.

She debated for a moment. Varian? Well, no, how could anyone be expected to take a man seriously when he looked like an irate, muscle-bound toddler? Had his widdle diaper been confiscated and fully loaded _by the __big bad __Horde__? _One certainly got the impression he was being forced to wear someone else's shit.

Sylvanas grunted meditatively, pondering more possibilities. She _could_ go down to the plague-riddled, undead-rat-infested sewers in the bottom of the dungeon and torture hostage Scarlet Crusade slime for a few hours…

With a bit of thought, she rejected that idea as well. No, those fanatical maggots were about hot-pokered out.

The Dark Lady chuckled wickedly. Perhaps she could interrupt yet another tryst between Thassarian and Koltira... Ah, the looks on their faces, at the bursting of their bubble of intimacy...Koltira, unabashed, but squirming with frustration, and Thassarian proving conclusively that, yes, the undead _can_ blush...

_ I need __a __challeng__e_...she decided.

Thrall? Again, no, everything was so grindingly _life __or__ death_ with him. When, in fact, there was the enormous middle ground of _undeath_, just waited to be exploited. _Garrosh._..yes, now _he_ was a likely doable. It was so much fun watching his tiny brain slowly implode with rage. If nothing else, Sylvanas supposed, she could always go beleaguer Jaina...very little surprised _her_ anymore.

_'If you'd __only__ had the __presence of mind__ to bash that ass in the head at Stratholme, I'd still be a blonde bombshell, instead of just a shell...'_ was her favorite, most effective accusation; and poor Jaina was _so_ cooperative. It was a low blow, to be sure, but a thrilling one, nonetheless...repeatedly fueling the forlorn mage's guilty despair over the malevolent antics of her now-icy and soulless ex-squeeze…

Sylvanas tilted her head. _And_ _speaking of whom_...she brightened suddenly, gesturing to an attendant, undead mage. "Open a portal to Northrend…" she cried.

Northrend: Icecrown Citadel

"Oh, _gods_…" the Lich King groaned; he was lounging regally upon the Frozen Throne, "What do _you_ want, Sylvanas?"

"Just the company of someone devoid of common decency or any shred of morality...naturally, I thought of _you._.."

Arthas mused, "Well, all right, but considering that I'm far from the _only_ damned soul on Azeroth…may I ask what the hell _I_ did to merit this fine distinction?"

_"What? _Who better to torment? _You_ made me this way!" Sylvanas shrilled, "I'm entirely _your_ fault...!" He looked a bit unconvinced, she saw. "Oh, just deal with it. _Somebody_ has to take responsibility for my actions."

Arthas leaned his chin on his fist, _"You,_ perhaps...?"

"Don't be _ridiculou__s!_ Now, let's go stir shit up! Let's do something monstrous and fun…!"

"Sorry, but no…it's far too stressful having to watch my back _every_ _fucking_ second…" was his reply.

"See? _You_ never underestimate me…" she lauded. "It takes a genuinely diabolical scumbag to see past _my_ deflections…"

"How very flattering…" Arthas remarked. "As you can see, I'm all aflutter from your praise." He frowned forbiddingly.

"Oh, come now," Sylvanas gestured eagerly, "I _know_ you can do rage better than _that._.."

The Lich King sighed wearily, making no such effort, "Please leave now," he said, "You are a walking, talking migraine, Sylvanas, ever waiting in ambush for an unsuspecting brain to pounce and lay eggs in…why do you think I let you go in the first place? You gave me hives..."

_Well, that __could possibly__ explain __his __rather __d__eflat__ing __lack of __response to__ the Forsaken exodus... _

Sylvanas had been _**so**_ certain he would rise to the occasion with his usual _'I'm so __fucking __furious__ I'm pissing icicles__' _vehemence. In fact, she had orchestrated a number of elaborate wild-goose-chases in anticipation of the vengeful return of the Dark Lord of the Scourge. Well, as it turned out, Himself was not as predictable as she had hoped; and his apparent indifference to her illustrious coup had been more than a little disappointing. But now, to find that she had managed to make him perfectly miserable, after all, _without even trying__..._this was very satisfying news, indeed. Sylvanas twittered happily.

Leaning back, Arthas pondered her amusement with narrowed eyes. "I think you know how important it is to me that I convey a certain, dark and overwhelming aura of pure evil...yes? Well, I can assure you, it is no small feat to maintain the terrifying mystique of a death god_...__especially_ when dealing with a merciless itch that just happens to be completely inaccessible underneath plate and chain mail..." he paused reflectively, "Why, one with a less tyrannical resolve than mine might be compelled to abandon _all_ propriety..."

Sylvanas sputtered gleefully over the mental spectacle conjured by his words..._Arthas, __stark naked__...__writhing __in a wanton, __scratching frenzy...armor, __Frostmourne__, __his __dignity, all cast aside..._oh _yes,_ that was a keeper. In fact, it was better than even her angriest fantasies—where she pranced him around in her imagination, sporting a hot-pink thong, and a wildly irrepressible boner...

Arthas, who was, of course, privy to her thoughts, frowned grimly over what he saw there; sometimes he absolutely _loathed_ having telepathic powers. He sighed...and pink was definitely _not_ his best color. "I, for one, have a _reputation_ to preserve." he said irascibly, "You think excellence just _falls_ out of my arse...? _No._..it takes _work_, Sylvanas. _Work and_ _d__edication..._" he tilted his head, "Frankly, I cannot imagine anything worse than even a _momentary_ loss of control...except perhaps, the appalling notion of Blizzard nerfing me to the point to where I could actually be brought down by...say, a rabid pack of adventurers and that old fart, Tirion Fordring..."

_"__They wouldn't dare!" _Sylvanas screeched, _"__Your ass is__** mine**__...!__" _she pointed emphatically,_"__Min__e! _I _earned_ it...! Besides_, _Uther's ghost was blathering on about always needing a Lich King_...__and_ _who the __hell__ could __replac__e __**you**_...?"

Arthas, of the same opinion, glanced around and then indicated a groaning, tortured Bolvar Fordragon, suspended by chains, high above them, "I suppose they _could_ forgo the whole burdensome idea of having an _actual_ _plot_ and just go with _th__is_ convenient piece of toast..."

Sylvanas studied the dragon-crisped, undead paladin with renewed interest. "His skin is burned off, and yet he still has his pants on..." she said, "How the hell did _th__at_ happen...? You do know if he was a woman, his blistered bum would be hanging out for all of Azeroth to judge..."

The King closed his eyes, _"Oh, __shit__..." _he whispered, feeling the stirrings of an all-too-familiar, niggling tickle between his shoulder blades. _"__G__o away, _Sylvanas…" he said forcefully, "Nothing to see here, nothing at all for you to do."

The Banshee Queen smiled, unimpressed by his soul-withering glower as it settled upon her once again, "I know you're up to _something…" _she insisted, "You always are. Why not let me help…? You know how relentlessly devious I am…"

"Yes, I _do_ recall that," Arthas said, "And, I admit, the utter shamelessness of your treachery _is_ most alluring…still, I prefer to take full credit for my deviltry…" He paused, studying her with glowing, murderous eyes, "I am not exactly the sharing sort, if you will remember."

"That's fine by me," Sylvanas replied with an unconcerned shrug. "No one takes me seriously as an agent of true malice, anyway_…__at least not yet...__"_ she eyed him craftily, "But, I'm _always_ delighted to make _you_ look as odious as possible…"

Arthas knew it all too well. "I really don't have much of an agenda for today…" he informed her, "Just a few villages to ransack...a hamlet or two to blight. I intend to let the frost wyrms wreak most of the necessary havoc, as Invincible needs a new saddle..." He stroked his chin with thumb and forefinger, his expression thoughtful, "You know, it never occurred to me that a skeletal horse would be so hard on tack..." he shook his head, "I am _certainly_ not riding him bareback—such would be inappropriate _and_ painful…"

"After all this time of sitting on the Frozen Throne_…_? I wouldn't think you…"

"Well, _some_ things _never_ change…" Arthas interrupted, not at all interested in her opinion on that subject; he grunted, "A pain so like _you_…in many ways…" he added irritably, making shooing gestures, "Now, run along…lest I wax wrathful…"

Sylvanas gave him a cunning smile, "You know, Jaina still talks about you all the time…" she said blithely, as if in afterthought.

Arthas looked interested, despite himself; and then he scowled. "I shudder to think…" he grumbled.

"She's always bragging about your prowess…in _and_ out of bed…but mostly in…"

Arthas smiled, pleased. "Really? Well...it's so nice to be appreciated…" he said, musing nostalgically. Shortly, however, he snorted, suddenly aware of and annoyed by his lapse. "Why not visit Illidan?" he suggested then, managing to produce the sort of evil sneer that fulfilled Sylvanas' expectations of him, "I'm quite certain he would be just as overjoyed to see you as I am. Perhaps you could entice him into a game of hide-and-go-seek..." He growled a brief, chilling laugh, "That should keep you on your malicious little toes, as well as being amusing as hell. I would almost consider accompanying you…but for Kael'thas being there. Last time I saw _him_ he screamed so long and so piercingly I had a nosebleed for two days…"

Sylvanas considered his proposal, "You never fail to have the _best_ ideas…" she murmured, stepping closer, and reaching out to toy briefly with his long, snow-white hair, caressing his pauldron.

Arthas drew back, frowning warily, "Hey, hey, no touchy-feely shit...you know how I hate that…and hands _off_ the skulls…" he warned, his fist tightening on Frostmourne's grip.

"I just want to stab you in the heart…" Sylvanas said, tapping her daggers.

"Don't have one anymore…"

"Well, then how can it _possibly_ inconvenience you…?"

Northrend: Somewhere Outside Icecrown Citadel

The abomination escorted the Banshee Queen to the front gate.

"Your Dark Lord has completely lost what was, at one time, a fine sense of humor…" she accused. "And you may tell him I said so…"

The construct warbled nonsensically and turned away; it slouched back inside and slammed the gate. Sylvanas sighed, looking around. Snow. Stench. Ice. Large, frozen puddles of blood. More snow. Scattered body parts. More ice.

_ What a huge, __dreary, hideous__ sink-hole of despair_…she thought with an approving smile…_and_ _it_ _hasn't lost one bit of its charm…_

Sylvanas had great plans for the Undercity, but she knew it would never be as gloriously revolting as this hellish place. The gorge-raising ambiance, alone, was priceless.

Squinting up at the colossal, menacing black walls of the Citadel, Sylvanas debated upon climbing them and sneaking back into the throne room. _Give Hi__s Majesty__ a little Dark Lady Specialty-Surprise_…she snickered, fondling her quiver of poisoned arrows. _Just like old times__..__._

_Don't even __**think**__ about it_…Arthas' voice muttered in her mind. _Just move along. Outland is that way. __'__That way__'__ being any way away __from here…_

"I'm bored!" Sylvanas complained.

_And_ _i__n__ what way is that an issue for __me__…?_ the voice questioned.

"Heartless bastard…" she growled.

_An already established fact…_Arthas reminded her…_I have great __faith in your __ability to be a__n __unspeakable__ pain in the ass__, Sylvanas. __Now, go be __creative elsewhere__…_

Outland: The Black Temple

"Kael!" Sylvanas cried, waving enthusiastically.

The elven archmage—deeply immersed in manipulating the fiery, esoteric forces of the universe—recoiled violently; with a strident scream, he whirled around, wide-eyed, to face her. There was a flash of collapsing, unraveled energy, an enraged groan from thwarted, malevolent powers, and a sizable chunk of Kael'thas Sunstrider's long, beautiful, golden hair went up in smoke, taking one wispy eyebrow with it.

"Ever considered a less harrowing pastime?" the Banshee Queen inquired.

_"Sylvanas…" _the archmage croaked. A tendril of glittery, purplish smoke wafted off his singed brow.

"Love the new 'do..." Sylvanas crowed. Kael_'_thas_'_ delicate, trembling, fingers moved to palpate his scorched forehead, and then the singed void where his once-gorgeous, now-vaporized tresses had been. He began to weep silently.

"And the green thingy…" she leaned closer to scrutinize his horribly violated chest, where a pulsing, ferocious-looking crystal had been thrust deep into his obviously aching flesh, "I take it this is a new look for you…"

Kael'thas burst into tears. He tore frantically at his smoldering hair, "Oh, gods, what do you want? _What?! _Why are you here?"

Sylvanas smiled cruelly..._oh, yes_. "Well..._Arthas_ sent me…"

Kael_'_thas stared at her, his fel-bright eyes bulging; he shrieked insanely, waving his clenched fists, "Of _course_ he did! _Of course!"_ He tossed his head wildly, "I can't escape that vicious, taunting shit, no matter _where_ I go! One would _think_ _**another**_ _**fucking**_ _**planet**_ would be far enough…but _noooo_…_!_ Oh, gods," he mumbled, suddenly exhausted. "I hate him _so_ much…I wish he would freeze to that fucking glacier of his and just _**die**_**…**! When are those pompous Alliance buffoons and their highly-touted _Light_ going to get off their collective asses and _smite_ him?! _**Isn't anybody ever going to kill him**__?!" _His remaining eyebrow furrowed and he stared at her distrustfully, "Why did he send you here…? _What does he want?" _he wailed, quivering, and for a moment, Sylvanas was quite certain the harried elf might crawl right out of his skin.

_That would be interesting..._she thought idly, but then decided, instead, to concede. "To be honest, he just wanted to get me out of his hair…"

Kael'thas flinched; his right eyelid began to twitch erratically. In a moment, the sense of desperation and its tension subsided. "Oh," he said, shivering slightly, "in _that_ case…"

"So…" Sylvanas began again, "Illidan around?"

Kael'thas blinked at her for a moment, before glancing about the massive chamber, as if diligently combing shadows that weren't nearly deep enough to conceal the sizable and rather turbulent Lord of Outland. "I…well, you might check his Tyrande shrine…" he gestured towards a long, convoluted flight of black marble steps. "He spends a lot of time there…"

Sylvanas pursed her lips, "I'm sure…" she said with a very poor attempt at sensitivity.

Kael'thas shook his head mournfully, "Oh, gods…poor Illidan, I know just how he feels…" He covered his face with his hands, blubbering hysterically.

"Hey, look on the bright side," Sylvanas suggested, "Arthas didn't get her either…"

_"Don't say his name…" _Kael'thas hissed, his eyes gleaming maniacally.

"Well, even he came up second to Thrall…"

Kael'thas screamed, "Don't say _his_ name, either!"

_"What__ is__ going on down there?" _Illidan's huge voice rumbled from above. "I'm _trying to brood_ up here!"

"Illidan!" Sylvanas cried.

"Oh, gods…what the _hell_ do _you_ want, Sylvanas?" He spread his great, raggedy wings, leapt off the high balcony where he stood, and flew down to land with a mighty thump beside her. "Can't you see I'm busy?" he demanded. "Who sent you here? Maiev? That evil temptress! Do you know she used to flash her naughty butt cheeks at me…when I was indisposed..." he sighed. "Palest lavender, they were...ooh...mmm...so round and sweet and delectable…yes…."

"When she had you chained to the floor in the Barrow Deeps…"

"The view was very good from that angle…"

"_Arthas_ sent her…" Kael'thas moaned.

Illidan scowled, "Oh _shit_, what does that frozen prick want? He has been spying on me again, hasn't he? Seeking to disrupt my important work! When even _I_ do not yet know what it is! Or perhaps he expects me to _thank_ him for not killing me at Icecrown...yes? Well, he may go _fuck_ himself!" He paused, giving Sylvanas a shrewd look, _"__A__hh, __I know._..he thinks to bring his icky flock of stinky-poo Scourge _here__._.._into __**m**__**y **__realm__! __Ha! __**You **__**are not prepared**__**,**_ Lich King! You will rue the day I hand you your own ass!" He tilted his head, musing, "What the fuck does that _mean_, hmm? To hand someone his own ass..." he reflected further, tapping the tip of his manly, blade-like nose with a taloned finger, "Well, no matter," he waved an uncaring hand, "I have found it is not necessary to _understand_ anything...I will do it, yes, I will do it, anyway!" he frowned, "Unless, of course...it is something..._sexual...__"_

Illidan was deep in anxious thought for a moment, but he moved on quickly, brandishing both fists, stalking about the vast enclosure, muttering to himself, energized by his own grand illusion. He strode back, leaning down to study Sylvanas intently, "You _do_ know he cheated, in our epic battle, _don't you?_ In fact, he has cheated every time we have ever crossed blades!" He howled insane laughter, "How else could he have overcome my vastly superior strength and intelligence?"

Sylvanas smiled to herself. Actually, all anyone really needed to do was just wait patiently and Illidan would soon mull and fret his way into a dither of self-doubt and inaction. He had always been his own worst enemy. _Now, how best to fan this fire...?_ she was wondering. "I don't know, Illidan...after what _I_ heard..."

The demon hunter grimaced, "I _knew_ it!" he snarled. _"I knew it! _Why did I _believe_ him! Why am I _**sooo**_ trusting? And he said he would _never_ mention it, if I would only go away..._liar!__" _He paced agitatedly, cursing in rather heated Darnassian, and threatening to apply grievous adjustments to Arthas' masculinity; he pointed a long, dangerous finger. "There is not one tiny tidbit of proof..._truth_, I mean, _truth__...__ah, __shit__._..it is an ugly lie that I tripped over my own warglaives...and...and..._hurt_ myself...o_h, that was so __embarrassing_..." he whispered distractedly, before bellowing, _"__Fibber__! __Perfidious__ and dastardly __bastard__...! _He no doubt spread the lie, himself," he mumbled, "just to make me look_...__unprepared__...__"_

Sylvanas nodded encouragement, her glowing, red eyes dancing with elation. The only comment Arthas had ever made on the contest at Icecrown was a cackling, breathless refusal to discuss it...so she had no idea what the crazed elf was ranting about, but that did not mean his agitation could not serve her. Had not the Lich King sent her away with the suggestion that she be _creative...?_

"He _did_ call you a psychotic windbag, once..." she confided, struggling to suppress her dark joy as Illidan's lips formed into a perfect O of stunned indignation.

With a pinched expression, he sighed morosely, gazing up into the shadowy, vaulted ceiling, stroking his horns contemplatively, _"_It is _jealousy, _I tell you...everyone hates me because they are _jealous._..of my vast and magnificent powers, my incredible good looks, my big pee pee..." He paused, peering closely at Sylvanas again, noticing she was a bit bluer in the face than usual.

_ No doubt the effect__s__ of her sympathy for __my__ plight..._he decided, touched by her obvious concern.

"As if _he_ can talk about _my_ brain..." Illidan murmured grumpily, _"__I _am not the one obsessing over a soul-sucking _sword__...__h__a!__"_ He scowled bitterly, "And now...yes, _now_ he expects me to thank him for laughing so hysterically that he was too winded to stop me from crawling...I mean _fly__ing...__flying_ boldly away..._I think not! _He may hold his fucking, goddamned breath! That is what he can do! As if _that_ would trouble the dead asshole..." He clenched an angry fist, "I did _not_ falter at Icecrown! I will _not_ waver now! I will _outlive_ his fucking glacier! I have done it before, I will do it again! It will have melted down to a teensy little ice cube, too small to even chill my fucking margarita before he hears those poopy words from Illidan Stormrage…_night elf, demon hunter!"_

Massive, echoing silence descended. It was as if the very air itself had to catch its breath.

Sylvanas had to admit she was impressed, albeit slightly deafened, by the intricate lunacy and magnitude of Illidan's stunningly brilliant delusions. Not to mention his lung capacity. She recalled Malfurion's past comments on the awful repercussions of dredging up the bottom mud in the deep well of his brother's persecution complex.

_ But it was s__uch __irresistible __fun..._

The demon hunter had relaxed now—mollified and vindicated, he nodded grimly, satisfied with his judgments.

_Clueless as always_...Sylvanas thought."So then…" she said conversationally, "How have you been?"

Illidan shrugged, "Oh, well…_Shit! What the fuck happened to __your pretty hair, Kael?"_

There was a roaring sound, a crackle of arcane power, a burst of shimmering light, and an enormous portal yawned open in the center of the temple. Moments later, looking a bit more provoked than usual, Kil'jaeden stepped through and rose menacingly to his full height.

"_Kael'thas_…" he trumpeted, glancing around for the archmage, "I have _told_ you time and again…"

Sylvanas assumed a very believable look of shocked concern; she pointed, _"Damn._..what went with your _tail, _big guy_._..?"

Kil'jaeden blanched, glancing quickly behind him_...__H__ad __he pinched it off __**again**__? __In that frigging, __inter__dimensional__ flux..._

Sylvanas beamed up at him.

"Oh, Elder Gods…_now_ I see the problem…" he accused huffily, his fiery skin deepening into an even richer, crimson hue. _"What in the Nether do __**you**__ want?" _

Blushing was always a bit risky for a demon lord; with a whoosh, his face ignited.

_"__Whoa_...I'm now getting why you're called _The_ _Lord of Flames_..." the Banshee Queen said, snickering softly.

Then—as this unforeseen complication caused him to briefly lose control over its energies—his magical vehicle wavered dangerously, and The Deceiver had but a moment to squawk, _**"Troublemaker...!"**_ before he was sucked violently back into his own portal; it closed with a pop.

Sylvanas pondered this phenomenon, with an evil grin. _"__You got __that right__..." _she crooned.

Illidan and Kael'thas exchanged a long, silent look, before shrieking with riotous laughter.

_"Oh, well done!" _they cried simultaneously.

The Dark Lady chortled.

It seemed Arthas was right, after all, she decided.

_I__t __**was**__ nice to be appreciated…_

End

_**Thanks for reading!**_


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